Heavy In Your Arms
by crossroadx
Summary: Eames telling his story about how he met Arthur and how his life was turned upside down every time they met again. Slash! Eames/Arthur


**Author: crossroad_x**

**Title: Heavy In Your Arms (.com/watch?v=GjDEGoDCh9I)**

**Rating: R**

**Warnings: Unbeta'ed (mistake? say it, I change it), lots of British expressions**

**Word Count: 4,733**

**Pairing/Character: Arthur/Eames, Cobb, Yusuf, mentions Ariadne, Mal and Nash**

**Summary: Eames telling his story about how he met Arthur and how his life was turned upside down because of him.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing, but the story. Characters belong to Nolan, song to Florence Welch**

**Author's note: I tried something entirely new and I hope I managed to succeed with what I had in mind. =/ **

**Heavy In Your Arms**

The first time you meet _him _he's supposed to be at school. In college or university. Anywhere but here. As you enter the place where Cobb told you earlier to wait for him he is not alone. This young boy barely out of adolescence looks at you skeptically, eyes you up and down within mere seconds. But you notice, you always notice. Because it's your job.

"See something you like, boy?" you ask him, a small smirk decorates your face. The young man wearing a, probably expensive, three-piece suit blushes; confusion written all over his face. His hair is short, except for his bangs. It's thick, brown, a bit curly and ruffled. Amused you reach for Cobb's hand. The man smiles, shakes the given hand and asks politely to stop tease Arthur. Immediately you think that the name Arthur suits him just fine, just like his suit.

"Arthur, hmm? Well…nice to meet you." You stretch your hand his way, he doesn't take it. "The pleasure is all mine, ," comes instead and you know he's lying. His almond-shaped eyes still observing, trying to figure you out like some tough riddle he must solve.

A little while later he got his composure back: Staying tall, upright or rather uptight like he doesn't know where to go or what to do. And you realize, the truth slapping you in the face: He never done this before, this is going to be his first job. The fact makes you sick and angry. Your first thought had been that he was paid to wake you up. He is too young to be involved with people like you or Cobb. You turn to the Extractor. "What the hell are you thinking?" "Calm down, Eames." "Where, damn it, where did you find him?"

You glare at Cobb; ignoring Arthur for seconds which wasn't the best of ideas you admit, because here is where the long story of verbal fights with him begins. Of course you don't know yet. "First, Mr. Eames, I like to note I'm still in the same room. Don't talk like I'm not here. Second, you are _not _my father and last but not least: I'm twenty-one. I think I can watch out for myself, thank you very much." The look he gives you full of disfavor. You raise one eyebrow, astonished. Well it wasn't something you would expect him to say. "Don't call me _Mr. _Eames, boy. And I recommend you stop talking like you know what you're about to do." Before he can answer Cobb interferes by saying, "Enough. Both of you. Eames, he studies physics and mathematics in Stanford. He will be a good Point man." Its Cobb's art of saying, '_Everything will be fine,' _and, '_let's get started.'_

The Architect is further in the back of the building, already asleep, creating the world. You sigh and start walking. You're not okay with how things are so you hope the job is going to be fairly easy.

You prepare yourselves two weeks. Two weeks and the boy still hates you; every fibre of his being despises you. He stopped calling you _Mister _and only talks with you if it's necessary_._ You openly care about him at the beginning, because somehow you want to protect him. You don't really know yourself anymore. You never had that instinct to protect someone, not even with your fiancée. But Arthur had made it clear the other day that he didn't want any protection.

You never stopped caring though; you just do it more subtle now. When you finally get down to business, you keep an eye on him the whole time. Cobb won't do it. Arthur turns out to be a very good Point man and your worries decrease.

After the job Cobb and Paul, the Architect, are inviting you, "Come on, one beer to mark the occasion." You reply, "No, thank you." You're about to leave when Arthur approaches you. At first you think he is going to hit you in the face, verbal or with his fist. But instead he says to not call him '_boy'_ if you cross paths again. You grin your typical grin, wink and leave without a word.

It's only when your back home, kissing your fiancée that you realize something is wrong. That this job changed you in ways you're not sure you want to explore. The feeling like your hanging over a waterfall with your hands on Dana's ankles, the only safety you got, is never leaving you.

It's shortly before your wedding with Dana that you admit it to yourself. She stands before the mirror, admiring her wedding dress and it breaks your heart to break hers. You really loved her back then. Back, before the time this damn job came along. She sees you standing in the doorway and smiles at you, her eyes smiling too. The little wrinkles around the brown eyes making her attractive, not old. Her long, brown hair curly; she just had been to the hair salon. Dana turns around to face you and tells you with a little laugh and the sun shining in her eyes that you can't see the bride in the dress yet. It will bring misfortune.

You give her a smile back and it's a sad and guilty one. Immediately her whole attitude changes, she's protecting herself. She furrows her forehead, knitting her eyebrows in the process. "Say it, Eames," she whispers. You start looking confused, she starts looking like she expected this and waits. The unspoken threat lingers in the air. You think time must have been put on the _'freeze'_ mode, you think you have to linger like this forever: Her hands gripping the fabric, making her knuckles white, waiting and waiting for you to say something when all you can feel is your tongue stuck to the roof of your mouth.

"Say it," she demands. "I can't marry you." You want to add that loving her never felt like a blessing, you want to hurt her so she would stop looking at you like this. Like _she _is the one breaking up with _you_ and cancels the wedding. "Tell me why. Say it out loud. _I _know it anyway; I want _you_ to admit it. " Your grey eyes fall down to the ring still attached to your hand and you feel ridiculous. You imagined it different. She walks over to you, her dress dragging across the ground. Slowly she puts her hands on your face and forces you to look at her. "It's this Arthur guy, isn't it? I saw the way you talked about him, you know? And you did that a lot," Dana chuckles. "I'm sorry," you whisper hoarsely, you mean it. "I know, Eames. Now kiss me." She kisses you. You close your eyes, letting your hands fall to her thin waist and kiss her back one last time.

The second time you meet him you're back in London. You stopped working as Forger three years ago, broke up with your fiancée six years ago and started working in your old job as psychologist two years ago. You don't know how Dom Cobb found you and you don't really want to know. What you want is him out of your office. But he sits on the couch telling you all kind of things. You're angry, tapping with your fingers on the clipboard, watching the clock on the wall. You rudely interrupt him, "Listen, Cobb. I haven't seen you in seven years with a good reason. Just leave and don't come back." Cobb stands up and leaves without another word.

You sigh, the first symptoms of a headache showing. You leave your office early, also your secretary Susan. Back home three missed calls await you. One from your sister, she's complaining about how you never call back. One is from Cobb, he is apologizing about this afternoon and won't bother you again and the third one is a second of silence. You think about eating something, but you're not hungry for meat or vegetables. Temptation has followed you all the way back home and clings to you like a second skin. You need to let go, you need some liquor. You decide to open a fine rum Dana send you last year as birthday present. And Florence + the machine as background music.

Half an hour later vodka had joined the rum and now you're drunk. The phone rings, it's your sister again. "Eames, are you drunk?" "Yeah." "Did you do something stupid?" "Not yet.""So you're going back to dream -sharing." "I'm still thinking about it." "Eames…" It's only your name with too many emotions behind it. Maybe you are drunk, but stupidity was never something you gained when wasted. You can't stand the silence so you just hang up on her. You never did this before.

You wake up to the music still playing and one of the worst hangovers you ever had. Nevertheless it is Friday and you've got work to do. You do the same procedure as every morning, pretending yesterday never happened, lying to yourself. Something you hate other people to do and something you became the best in over the years.

Susan says nothing besides a, _'Good morning' _as you enter your officeand you're grateful for that. Her discreetness one of the reasons you gave her the job. You start looking through the files she gives you, patients for today. "There is, by the way, someone waiting for you." "What?" "He said you're awaiting him." You clench your jaw, teeth gritting. If Cobb thought you were that easy to break…You open the doors to your treatment room about to bark out, _'What are you thinking?'_ when you stop dead in your tracks. That face, that little smirk, that turn of the head doesn't belong to Cobb. You turn back towards Susan. "Tell Adam to wait." She nods and you close the doors.

"What makes _you_ think _you_ can change my mind?"Arthur sits on the couch like Cobb did yesterday, but not as relaxed as the older one. Arthur's hair has grown longer over the years and is gelled back. The last traces of youth were gone; replaced by strong, edged features. "Because I'm working with Cobb. Plus twenty bugs you missed me," he smirks cockily. You narrow your eyes and search in his brown ones for something he shouldn't possibly know. "Sorry to disappoint you, pup." You smile; it's one of the fake ones you trained yourself to show. "Is it because of your wife? Are you scared? Cobb can handle it, too." That makes you laugh out loud, it's harsh and unfamiliar. You look at him a bit angry even though you know he doesn't deserve it. It was not his fault you fell in love with him or broke up with Dana. It was your decision and you don't regret it. You're still friends and she found someone else. You raise your hands. "I'm not married nor engaged." Apparently it takes him by surprise, but he recovers fast and tries to tease you, "I should have known you're not the type to stay reliable in a relationship."You're back to smiling. "Grow up, Arthur. Then we talk again." You stand up and open the door. "Good afternoon." With a grim face he stands before you, you smell his cologne and the gel in his hair and the scent underneath all the other stuff, the one purely Arthur. "We're not done yet, Eames." "Good luck, pup."

You close the door and leap for the bathroom. Water splatters in your face. You try to think of something else, there is nothing. Just Arthur. You fumble with one of your trouser pockets until you get what you were looking for. You let the die roll across the sink and wish it was all just a dream.

Two days later, after ignored phone calls and the fast close of your office due to 'vacations', you meet Arthur, Cobb and an Architect named Nash. They tell you about the job and you listen, already analyzing the situation. After the discussion you leave as fast as you can and miss in your rush the look Arthur gives you. Full of desire and the same need to know what it would like to let fingertips caress the other skin.

The four of you worked fast and good. Arthur and you were acting like you always do. Cobb was as optimistic and happy as ever, before Mal killed herself, and Nash was someone you learned to ignore. You didn't like him.

Many times you found yourself trying to concentrate, which was a difficult thing to do. You found yourself observing Arthur more than necessary. Nothing escaped you; you sucked up every little detail about the man like a sponge. But at the end of a day, if you felt the need to create your dream, you found yourself at loss. Arthur seems to be the only human being you can't fake.

Now the extraction is harder than any of you thought it would be. Halfway through the job you wake up. Arthur had been about to get shot and for a second you thought he would die. It was dumb and you scowl yourself after you wake up. With a curse you look at your side. Arthur is still asleep, which is a good sign. You're still a bit dazed when you start to clear the hideout. As soon as everyone else wakes up you have to go. Everyone has to.

Minutes later everything is gone except for the machine on which your colleagues are attached to. Without a second thought you do what you always wanted to. You touch Arthur's face lightly. You trace your fingers over his jaw, his cheeks and over his hectically moving eyes. He soon will wake up and a thought crosses your mind. It's a crazy one, but it's there. Cobb told you that Arthur refuses to use a Totem; he would always know what a dream is and what reality. You stand up, already missing the soft skin. You take out your loaded die, write a short note '_It __**is**__ important, pup. Don't be afraid to use It.'_ and both items disappear in an envelope. Shortly before Arthur wakes up the envelope is tucked into his jacket pocket. You kiss his forehead tenderly, turn away and leave this place.

It only takes you five minutes to your flat, five to pack everything you need and fifteen to the airport. You buy a last minute ticket; you don't care where to, just away. The urge to run is so strong you buy a ticket to Mombasa. The plane is going to take off in forty-five minutes; you wish it would be twenty.

The third time you meet him you first think it's by coincidence. Later you call yourself a fool. You should know by now that nothing Arthur does is by coincidence. Everything is planned and studied and if something is done wrong he thinks about it calmly and blames himself over and over again. Of course he wouldn't show or tell anyone. He wouldn't do that.

However, that's not the point. You're in that bar, really filthy, really dodgy. You figured out - well it's been two years after all- that Mombasa isn't that bad. You always loved the coast, and the sea is one of the most beautiful things you've ever seen. But the bar is located in one of the poorer neighbourhoods and normal people or tourists would probably stay away from the place. But you're not a normal person, neither are you a tourist.

Your mate is named Yusuf, nice guy, chemist, dodgy and has plenty of skeletons in the closet you don't know about and don't wanna know about. You met him when you started working for Cobol Engineering.

The night is cool, the breeze from the sea waving over the city. Good thing your inside, warm and cozy, surrounded by the smell of alcohol, tobacco and perfume. The two of you are talking about this and that, you stand up saying you grab another two beers and walk to the bar. Out of the corner of your eye you see something, something you tried to forget. The reason for coming to Mombasa. You shake your head; it must've been a trick of your mind. After all, you just talked about him. You ordered two beers and as you're about to walk back to Yusuf _he's_ standing there. In the middle of the room, looking disgusted and lost.

You let out a long sigh and start grinning. Only half of it is a fake. You walk towards him and he sees you, too. Arthur is not grinning back, he's looking blank and…sad. It bothers you, but you don't show it, you learned not to the hard way all these years ago. Instead you say, "Missed me already, pup?" He snaps, "Don't call me that!" Something untypical for him to do. '_Danger!'_ signals are going off in your head. Arthur gave trouble to himself by searching for you and you guess it is not because of some job, not the way he is reacting to your teasing. "What is it? What happened?" You hope your look is not too concerned. "Can we talk in private?" There is an unfamiliar pleading in his eyes, also a feeling. You know _it,_ you experienced _it _yourself. The feeling of falling down a waterfall, ankles your only anchor to a life you once had. The same feeling after your first job with Arthur is now in his eyes and you don't like it. You despise it, because it breaks your heart. You show nothing, you simply replay, "Yes. Wait outside for me." Your voice is soft, the grin gone. That's not what he needs. He turns around and leaves the bar like a kicked puppy. As you walk back over to Yusuf you swear to yourself: Whoever made Arthur feel that way would pay. "Here is your beer. Enjoy. I must go." He looks questionably up at you, but says nothing. Instead he takes the beer and sips on it. His way of saying, _'Go. I'm fine.'_

Arthur waits outside, just as you said. You put an arm around his shoulders, he stiffens. Your arm disappears; you touch his back lightly, nudging him to go. "My apartment is near." You walk in silence, side by side and if the atmosphere around him wouldn't be so full of sadness and tension you would be delighted. As you two walk to your flat you say nothing, you know you have to wait until he speaks up first.

The moment you close the door behind Arthur he explodes. He looks at you, straight in the eye as he says, "Mal is dead. She killed herself. Became insane. Cobb fled the country. Everybody is thinking he killed her…she is dead, Eames. Dead." You're relieved and you hate it. But the knowledge that Arthur wasn't the target simply relieves you. You nod and gesture for the living room. You both need to sit down. His jacket lands on the back of your chair. His shoes stay on the floor while his body slumps into your couch.

He narrows his eyes at you, suspicious. "You don't seem to care.""Oh, no. I care, I really do. I'm sorry and it's a tragedy, but… I was never close to her. Meet her once, twice. Nice woman, loveable." Arthur nods. Whispers a long-drown-out, "Yeah." Slowly his head sinks into his chequered cashmere jumper; additionally he hunches his shoulders upwards. Vanishing behind all the fabric with an expressionless stare.

You want to hug him, tell him, _'everything is gonna be alright'_ directly into his ear. He is not normal, the situation is not normal. He could have told you on the phone, instead he takes the plane to Kenya to visit you. You never would have expected to be chosen as the one comforting him.

You think about it again and again and finally embrace him. The instant you do it, Arthur is in your arms. Clings to your shirt, head buried between your neck and collarbone. No tears, no sobbing. He is not ready for this stage yet. Arthur is so heavy and yet so fragile in your arms. One hand is around his waist, the other around his neck. It's then it happens, something you were not prepared for, something you imagined or dreamed about so often by now.

You feel butterfly kisses on your neck, a curious mouth wandering up to your own. You _bloody_ know you shouldn't enjoy this, you're taking advantage. You can't feel tears on your skin, but it's visible in his kisses. They're drunken with sadness and desperation. But then you find yourself not caring anymore. Arthur's lips found yours; they're moving slow and lazy. Of course you respond; your brain functions somehow managed to say goodbye. The arm around his neck becomes a hand in his hair, the one around the waist holding him stronger. Your lips are moving in perfect synch like they were made for this. He sucks on your bottom lip, drags his tongue across it just so he can slide it into your mouth and against your own. You savour it all, the feel, the taste and the moment, but you know as soon as its over you won't be able to reconstruct it. Both your breaths are fast, uneven although the kiss is gentle.

You withdraw, connecting your foreheads with closed eyes. The fog in your head vanishes, making you realize you made the biggest mistake of your life. Without opening your eyes you breathe,"Don't, darling. Don't do that to me." He draws back from you, looking confused and hurt. But as always he's businesslike all too fast. "I'm sorry. I won't bother you again." He stands up grabbing his jacket in the process. "Wait, Arthur." You want to explain to him that you would take advantage, that he would regret it in the morning. Arthur isn't someone who would have a slip and say later, _'Ah, forget it!'_ He isn't supposed to shag with men, it wouldn't be accurate. Before you can voice your reasoning he is out the door and his words are echoing in your head. You won't see him again.

That night, after you called your sister and told her, you lie on the couch. You jerk off, while tears are running down your face. You're not crying because of Mal, which is logical. You lost something you never thought you would. The kiss with Arthur is replaying itself over and over again, banned on the back of your eyelids.

You're surprised: One year later Cobb tells you something about the new job proposal. You're still in Mombasa, still working from time to time for Cobol Engineering. People often think as a Forger you would love being in different places, they are wrong. It's exactly the reason for staying in one place, having a stable life. But whenever Cobb comes to visit you, you are prepared to let everything go.

For someone who lost his wife and didn't see his kids for such a long time he looks pretty normal to you, but you guess it's his way of handling the tragedy. Staying strong with _the_ _one goal_ motivating him.

You take the job, of course. You also take Yusuf with you; he is a good chemist and friend. Ariadne is a cute girl, but you stay away from her. You're too afraid of her curiosity. And Arthur…he pretends the encounter one year ago never happened. You're okay with that and play along. What else can you do? Although you would like to ask him if he ever finished his school.

It's the evening before the flight and the Inception. You're sitting outside, enjoying the warm breeze of Paris when your doorbell rings. The flat you rented is small so you hear the _'ring' _even with music playing. Curious you put away the glass filled with too sweet wine and make your way over to the entrance.

"Arthur? What are you doing here? It's in the middle of the night." Wordless he enters and strides into the living room. "Well, come on in then," you whisper to yourself under your breath and follow him. He's standing in the middle of the room, inspecting your furniture. "What is it, darling? I'm guessing you're not here to get some tips how to decorate your house." His head snaps back at you and you wonder if you crossed the line. Again. "What do you think about me, Eames?" The question takes you by surprise. "Ehm, can we-" "Answer the damn question!" You think about his behavior and ask back, _'Are you drunk?'_ instead of answering. It has always been good to answer with a counter question. "Don't you dare to avoid this conversation. You won't shy away from it like last time." A finger points towards your face. "What do you want to know? My opinion as psychologist or- " His eyes narrow. "_Eames_." It's a low angry hiss.

Minutes tick by; you're still standing and staring at each other. "_And is it worth the wait? All this killing time? Are you strong enough to stand? Protecting both your heart and mine?_ " drifts through the air.

Arthur's gaze is on the stereo for a second before he turns around again. "I'm not leaving." "So it seems." He pulls off his jacket and throws it on a chair. He _threw _it, for god's sake! You really wonder what's gotten into him. Even more when he locks his eyes with yours, his fingers opening the tie and throwing it (_again_) over his jacket. In moments like this you wish you knew Arthur. Your thoughts, however, are interrupted when those piano fingers start unbuttoning the own shirt. Oh, God_,_ you think and rush over to him. "Would you stop that? What's up with you?" His brown eyes are never leaving yours. "Answer. The. Question, Eames." You wish you could handle this situation with the same ease you handle everything else. But that was never the case with Arthur, wasn't it? Flirting, teasing: Yes, because it's easy. More and you would become shy like a teenager. You graunch your teeth, unable to say a thing. "Say it."

You feel tossed back in time. Another place, another face, the same words. Arthur's hands which your holding feeling like a wedding dress. A promise you gave to an important person. "Eames?" You look back at him, his eyes showing worry. You're in the present and you must answer. "I love you, darling," you say and close your eyes and start laughing.

You don't see his relieved expression or the same love in his eyes; just feel his lips, once again, on yours. This time it feels right and wonderful, like happiness, with his mouth smiling against yours. And even with your eyes closed you can see those sweet dimples. You finish the work that he started: Undressing him while manoeuvring him over to the bed.

You discover parts of Arthur you never seen before. For example the fact that he likes to abandon his control, if you touch the right places. He hates to be bitten, so you're only nibbling. He wants to be handled gently, so everything you do is soft and slow. He loves your tattoos .When he's on top of you he bends down and gives a kiss to every single one. As soon as he is finished with the task he kisses the spot over your heart saying, "I w_ah_nt…_ah_ my n_ah_me…_ahah _engr_ah_ved right here. _Oh, fuck!_ _Do that again!" _You couldn't help yourself.

Afterwards he's cuddled to your side, sleeping when you can't. You're too afraid to wake up without him. You don't want this to be a dream, because you know beyond Arthur lies no-man's-land and you like the idea.

Back in the States you wait for him to get his luggage so you can leave together. Fortunately Arthur owns an apartment big enough for two. After all, you've got a lot to talk about. You're looking forward to understand the only human being on the planet you never quite figured out.


End file.
